


"I think we're ready to adopt"

by UneSalade



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Babies, Elliot being the true Snow White that he is, Elu as self-care during COVID-19?, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mostly just shameless fluff, and Lucas being terminally in love, and a semi-flower shop au, and savage af, lol, more likely than you think, puns, the mildest angst, we got animals, we got pets, we got plants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:54:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23258011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UneSalade/pseuds/UneSalade
Summary: It's all Fifi's fault.(In which Lucas realizes exactly how incapable he is of telling Elliot 'no.')
Relationships: Eliott Demaury/Lucas Lallemant
Comments: 11
Kudos: 103





	"I think we're ready to adopt"

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all totally saw this coming

It's all Fifi's fault.

At least, that's what he tells everyone, if they ever shoot him a wondering glance that clearly says 'What the fuck happened, Lucas.' Because he asks himself this very question maybe once or twice a week, usually when he comes back to the apartment after a long day at work, or whenever he and Elliot go grocery shopping and end up spending 300 euros on non-human food. But deep, deep down, in the darkest, most repressed parts of himself where he keeps things like unironically watching _Oui-Oui_ and not being able to reach the highest shelf, he knows he really only has himself to blame.

Though, to be fair to Fifi, it technically started with Gilbert--the basil plant Elliot had suddenly shoved under Lucas' nose one exceptionally warm spring evening. They had just moved in together. Elliot was a month into working at the video store, and Lucas was going insane from studying for the bac. They've mostly been subsisting on takeout for the past few weeks because Elliot still can't cook for shit, and Lucas' eyes are burning so badly that he'd probably chop off his finger and/or burn the entire building down if he stepped anywhere near the kitchen. So Elliot's been kind enough to charm the local restaurants in the area to give them ten percent discounts ("All I did was compliment their lighting, Lulu, really!"), and sometimes bring back a bottle of cheap wine from the grocers. Because the best way to forget how you're going to fail the bac is to get piss drunk and make out with your boyfriend for a few hours on your new couch that already has fifteen unidentifiable stains on it.

"You're so stupid," Imane had said fondly (he thinks) when he told her this.

"I know," Lucas groaned, falling limp against said couch. "That's why I'm going to fail."

"Why would I be studying with you if you're going to fail?" She took her third sip from the absolutely perfect cup of tea Lucas brewed just for her, like, four hours ago. Lucas totally wasn't counting. "There's only so much pity I can give."

He throws his pen at her head and misses by a yard, even though they're sitting right next to each other. "Was that supposed to boost my confidence?"

She takes three-quarters of a sip and barely represses a grimace. "Up to interpretation." O.K., so maybe he should have added more sugar. Or milk. Do people add milk to herbal teas? Or is it just non-herbal teas? Aren't all teas herbal?

He's trying to think of something devastatingly witty to say--which isn't coming easily because his brain has decided to go AWOL, and he feels just a the slightest bit guilty about the tea--when there's a knock at the door. He lets his head thunk back against the couch with a groan.

Imane shakes her head at him. "You're not going to get up, are you?"

"I'm dying, Imane," he whispers pitiably. "A good doctor wouldn't force her wasting patient to get the door, would she?"

She rolls her eyes and keeps them pointed up at the ceiling, like maybe she's asking god why she's being punished with him. "You're a terrible host," she sighs, but she does get up and stalk over to the door. "You know that, right?"

"I love you, girl!" he says fervently. "Seriously!"

"Yeah, yeah," she mutters. Which quickly morphs into a cheery, "Hello, Elliot--is that a _diamond ring_? For _me_? Oh _no_ , you shouldn't have--"

Lucas practically flies off the couch. "Wait what--"

Imane meets him halfway by shoving a bottle of wine into his chest. "You missed it," she smirks over her shoulder at a grinning Elliot. "Should've gotten the door."

Lucas scrubs a hand down his face, collapsing back against the nearest wall. "How are we even friends?"

"I ask myself that very question every day," she calls from the living room.

"Long day?" Elliot smiles beautifully at him, bearing the most heavenly smell of tonight's dinner and Lucas' stuttering heart in his hands.

"Exceptionally," Lucas says incoherently with his face mashed against the best thing he's seen in the past eight hours, chasing down every last trace of coffee and cigarettes. "Imane's been bullying me."

"Has she now?" Elliot snickers over Imane's indignant scoffs. "I thought she was saving you from retaking the bac."

"That's what I thought, too," Imane brushes past them with her backpack swinging, mostly elbowing Lucas in the ribs. "But he's clearly beyond saving."

"You're not staying for dinner?" Lucas would feel bad, if not for the bruise that's definitely blooming on his chest.

"And cockblock you guys?" Lucas does not choke on his spit. Because he wasn't drooling in the first place. "Please. I have more courtesy than that."

Elliot is full-on guffawing at him. And Lucas is so whipped that it brings him a stupid joy that warms his entire body. "I'll see you tomorrow, your place?"

"Yeah. You better not forget to bring some kind of writing utensil, because you owe me at least two boxes of fancy pens--oh, Elliot, is this yours?"

Elliot thrusts the takeout bag into Lucas' one free hand before tearing himself out of Lucas' grasp. Lucas does not whine, or almost spill everything to the ground. "Oh, yes! You can just leave it--"

Lucas only sees Imane's incredulous 'uh, what the fuck' face for a split second before the door closes. But combined with how Elliot's smiling far too widely, and the fact that he's clearly hiding something behind his back, Lucas already knows he's way too sleep deprived for whatever's going to happen next.

"Elliot," he says carefully. "What did you do?"

"Lucas," he starts promisingly, "you know how you were talking about how herbs are the unsung heroes of every good dish? And how it's a travesty that you have to pay five euros for one moderately fresh bay leaf?"

Lucas is momentarily stunned still by overwhelming adoration. "You remembered." He thinks he went on that rant at least two years ago. Possibly half drunk.

Elliot raises his eyebrows. "Of course I remember!"

"But what does that have to do with anything?"

"Well," Elliot brightens like this conversation is going exactly as planned, "I passed by this flower stand on the way back home, and look what I found--" he unveils a small pot with the tiniest sprig of basil, its few leaves dwarfed by the hulking red bow choking its stem, "--a never-ending supply of basil!" He beams at the sad plant, and then at Lucas. "He looks like a Gilbert, doesn't he?"

Lucas just stares at this strange image of a towering boy cradling a waif of a plant named Gilbert that he got on the whim of a mundane memory, and wonders if it's a hallucination. He's unsure if he wants to laugh or cry or--

"Lucas? Are you alright?" Elliot frowns. "Do you not like him?"

Lucas makes up his mind.

He puts the wine and the takeout on the ground, then lifts Gilbert gently out of Elliot's hands and sets it on the nearest table. Then he takes Elliot's face in his hands and kisses him so hard that they stagger back into the door.

Elliot's smiling against his lips. "So I guess Gilbert's welcome into the family?"

"So long as one of us doesn't accidentally kill him by the end of this week," Lucas murmurs, tugging at the edges of Elliot's shirt, "he can take your side of the bed."

Elliot gasps indignantly, then gasps in one of Lucas' favorite kind of gasps of his--the one when he makes when Lucas is nipping at the curve of his neck. "Lucas," he hisses as he tosses Lucas' hoodie somewhere in the distance, "Gilbert's watching!"

"You're so ridiculous," Lucas had laughed as they careened vaguely in the direction of their bedroom. "I'm sure Gilbert won't mind. Besides, aren't basil particularly... _thirsty_ plants?"

"That's true," Elliot had snorted. It was somehow one of the sexiest sounds Lucas' had heard yet. "I guess I'll have to make sure he's never... _dehydrated_."

That was when they fell onto the bed, and totally forgot about dinner and le bac and Gilbert for the next forty-eight hours. And then continued forgetting about Gilbert for another week-and-a-half, apart from moving him to the kitchen counter, where Lucas could observe his slow death by desiccation.

He takes a crime scene photo and sends it to Elliot:

_the basil is dying  
did you water it yet?_

_oh no  
I forgot  
_ _:(((((((((((  
_ _could you water him for me, plz?  
_ _and change his soil?  
_ _and make sure he's somewhere sunny? I forget if he was next to the window_

_Elliooooottttttt_

_thank you so much!!!  
_ _you're the best  
_ _I love you_ ❤️

Lucas glares intently at Gilbert for a few glorious, self-righteous moments before sighing. He grabs the pot and moves him onto the windowsill over the sink, where his leaves look even more pitifully shriveled under the sunlight.

 _I love you too  
_ _wait where's the soil?_

 _oh  
_ _about that_ 😬

_ELLIOT_

That's when Lucas turned into Gilbert's primary guardian, because Elliot would either forget to water him or drown him or threaten to send him hurtling to the ground when he thinks kissing Lucas into the kitchen sink is a good idea. And Lucas isn't even mad, because it's actually kind of nice to be able to just, like, lean over and pluck a few leaves to drop in his pastas and stews. And because he's physically, emotionally, and spiritually incapable of being mad at Elliot.

Which was probably why, after the whole tragic thing with Fifi, and after trying and mostly succeeding with going vegetarian in sympathy (eggs aren't technically meat, right?), and after watching Elliot stare forlornly at every rabbit in every pet store window they walk past on every outing they've gone on, Lucas ends up putting a small, sandy-haired bunny in Elliot's lap towards the tail end of one especially hard depressive episode spent largely in bed.

"She looks like a Kiki," Lucas had said tentatively, "don't you think?"

Elliot had stared wordlessly for so long at the dozing creature nestled between his thighs that Lucas was just about ready to sweep her back into her cage and rush her back to the pet store with a half-assed excuse for why he's returning her less than an hour after getting her. "Sorry, I didn't mean—" his hands move apologetically of their own accord, slow and shaky, slightly afraid of waking the rabbit and mostly afraid of touching Elliot. "This was a mistake--"

Then Elliot slid his fingers gently under the rabbit's torso, cupping her between his palms in a slow airlift to the mattress. He strokes his thumb across her flattened ears as her back rises and falls, miraculously unfazed. Then he tugs Lucas' hands until his body follows, head falling into the crook of his shoulder, slightly too warm and slightly sour with sweat. Then Lucas' shirt starts feeling wet.

"Lucas," he says quietly, voice choked and hoarse and so heavy with things unsaid that it barely makes it out of his throat. But Lucas thinks he knows what he means. So he just wraps his arms around Elliot's chest and feels their hearts beating together, undeniably alive.

So, yeah, Kiki was entirely his fault. And Didi was technically also his fault, because he was the one who let the pet store essentially guilt trip them into bringing home a rabbit missing one eye and three-quarters of an ear. "Didi here has cycled through five different stores over the course of three months, and we'll have to return him to the seller if someone doesn't take him by the end of the week," the girl restocking rabbit food had said. "After that, well. I don't know."

Elliot looked like he was about to cry. Lucas awkwardly cleared his throat, trying not to glare at Julie as she unearthed box after box of infuriatingly unidentified pet goods from a deceptively small closet. "Why did the pet store get him in the first place?"

"I think they thought that the scars and missing limbs would give him a kind of…rugged appeal," she shrugs, casually waving her box cutter in the air. "But I guess not. Charity cases, you know?"

Elliot and Lucas have a short discussion with their eyes and microscopic facial twitches. Then Lucas sighs. "How much is he?"

And that was how Didi found himself nestled cozily next to Kiki in an even larger cage. So, yeah, mostly his fault. But he refuses to take responsibility for the twenty baby rabbits that get birthed over the course of less than two months. They only had the presence of mind to separate them after they woke up one day to a second litter, because they totally underestimated the rabbit sex drive. He finally gets what people mean when they say they 'fuck like rabbits.'

"I told you we should've gotten them neutered," Lucas mutters as he watches Basile and Daphné go absolutely bonkers over Fifi no. 16. He's still recovering from the unbelievably awkward moment when he made eye contact with Chloé as she walked into their makeshift Bunny Giveaway Bonanza. They inevitably made even more awkward small talk ("Glad to see you and Elliot are doing well." "Likewise. With you and, uh…Francis?" "Henri." "Yeah. Oh yeah, Henri! I know him--with the huge sideburns, right? He's, uh, he's really good-looking." Lucas wanted to _die_ ), before awkwardly doing a confusing handshake-bisous-side hug, before she awkwardly walked back out with Fifi no. 3.

"But if we did that, our friends wouldn't be able to share in the joy of having a bunny of their own!" Elliot exclaims brightly as he hands Alexia Fifi no. 5, who she nestles against her chest right next to Fifi no. 9 and Fifi no. 11. Her eyes are sparkling and Lucas thinks she might end up bringing all three home.

"Ever the generous saint, you are," Lucas fails to repress his smile as Elliot wraps his arms around his shoulders and digs his chin into the crook of his neck.

"I think I got it from you," Elliot says into his cheek, then his forehead, then his nose, then his mouth.

" _BASILE,_ " they hear Daphné shriek before witnessing the improbable feat of Basile tripping over Fifi no. 17, elbowing Arthur in the balls, somersaulting over a table, and launching Fifi no. 16 into the crudité plate Lucas had painstakingly arranged the night before.

After their friends leave and most of the rabbits are cleared out and Lucas' leftover finger foods are used as props in a spontaneous amateur BDSM session (he honestly doesn't even know how), Lucas is lying on top of a dozing Elliot on the couch at one AM, tracing hearts onto his chest and thinking, O.K. O.K. He can manage two rabbits and a basil plant. And a boyfriend who can love so many things so deeply all at once. He doesn't think he's slept that well in a long, long time.

Then Elliot came home one day with a fucking _cat_ trailing after him.

"She just followed me, Lucas!" Elliot had pleaded as the cat wrapped herself around his shoulders and licked her paws daintily. Like she absolutely knows what she's doing. "I swear!"

"Elliot, no," Lucas had groaned into his palm. "I have to put my foot down. It's gonna get fur _everywhere_ , and we don't even _know_ where it's been!"

It's with no small amount of guilt that Lucas drags both Elliot and the cat to the shelter. Which was way up there on the 'Saddest Places He's Ever Been To' list (which was itself a discomfitingly long list)--there's just rows and rows and rows of extremely depressed animals staring hopelessly at them through thick metal bars and unnecessarily dim lighting. Elliot is gripping Lucas' sleeve for dear life, like he's worried one of them might get shoved into a cage and get left behind. The cat, likewise, has been eerily silent in the rabbit carrier weighing heavily in Lucas' hand.

The guy leading them to the office at the end of the corridor to fill out paperwork, Marc, is built like a pro wrestler and has at least five different skull tattoos surrounded by what looks like the flames of hell screaming from his full sleeves. "She healthy?"

"Uh," Lucas tears his eyes from a howling cat missing one leg. "We think so."

"Hm," Marc grunts comfortingly. "We'll need to do an exam, then."

Marc's office turns out to be an aluminum table with a computer from the dinosaur age on top of a stack of thick files. "You can set her here," he slaps his hand down on the surface, and the sound is so disorientingly loud that there's an ensuing chorus of despairing barks and wails echoing down the corridor.

Lucas gingerly sets the rabbit carrier on the table and tries not to flinch at Elliot's sharp intake of breath. They watch Marc pull on a pair of latex gloves with a practiced snap and open the carrier door. "Will she, um--"

There's a blur of black and Lucas suddenly gets a wall of fur attached to his face. Lucas does not scream like a little girl.

It takes a bit of coaxing before Elliot is able to detach the cat from his head. But he somehow does, without taking chunks of Lucas' scalp with him, and just stares at the cat helplessly as she clings to his jacket with no intention of ever letting go. Lucas can kind of relate, in some respects.

Marc, who had watched this entire ordeal without interest, decisively slaps his hand on the table again. Everyone, Lucas included, yelps in fear. "I'll go get the tranquilizer--"

"Wait!" Elliot exclaims. He doesn't shrink back when Marc directs an annoyed look at him. "Sorry. But I just, I don't--" he turns to Lucas, and there's a determined set to his mouth and eyes that momentarily and inconveniently takes Lucas' breath away. "Lucas. Please."

He doesn't need to say much more for Lucas to understand what he's asking. And it doesn't take much soul-searching for Lucas to turn back to Marc with a resigned sigh. "Do you know where we can get cat vaccinations?"

And that was how Adèle came to occupy her habitual spot on the kitchen counter, totally ignoring Lucas' glares as she extends a paw towards the fish he was seasoning to perfection. And that was also how Ouba the fucking dog came to nip at Lucas' ankles every morning to refill his food bowl, because Elliot just had to find the saddest-looking animal in the entire pound and give Lucas That Look and say 'please' in that stupidly earnest way he always does. Marc had been surprisingly helpful in pointing them to the right resources, and even cracked a gold plated smile at them when they emerged into the daylight one carrier heavier than before. Which made Lucas suspect that the whole maximum security prison vibe was entirely a ploy to do just that.

"Do you think so?" Elliot had laughed when he told him this as they lugged three pet carriers to the vet that just had to be across town. "Well, it certainly worked!"

So a basil plant, two rabbits, a cat, and a dog. And also a fucking hamster, even though Lucas kept trying to tell Elliot that it's basically a glorified rat they could very easily find in a garbage can.

("He's totally a Tintin, Lucas!" "Because he has orange fur and keeps escaping from his cage? Where the fuck did he go?" "But he's right here--" "Oh my fucking--get him _off_ me _,_ Elliot, don't _laugh,_ I'm being _serious--"_ )

The next time Imane comes to their apartment, she does a doubletake. "Lucas, what--"

"Don't ask," Lucas mutters as he pries Adèle's claws off the couch. As expected, she's shed so much hair that it looks like black mold is growing on every piece of furniture they own. "You're not allergic, are you?"

Turns out Imane wasn't allergic to cat fur. But she was allergic to the pot of daisies Elliot had casually lugged back home one day, putting it next to the jungle of succulents, carnations, forget-me-nots, pansies, lilacs, sunflowers, begonias, tulips, and a bunch of other flowers Lucas can't name on the unofficial indoor garden that used to be their ping pong table. They both sucked at ping pong, anyway.

"Lucas," she sneezed. " _What_ \--"

"Sorry," Lucas rushes the pot of daisies into their bedroom, then rushes it into their closet instead because Oubas would otherwise most definitely knock it over within the hour. "Elliot has, like, developed some kind of plant obsession. There's a florist across from the video store, and the guy who works there keeps giving him flowers for free. You know how unfairly charming Elliot can get."

Imane arches an eyebrow over her fifth tissue, indicating that she's clearly _done_. "You know he's hitting on him, right?"

Lucas frowns in confusion. "By giving him a bunch of random flowers?"

So Imane initiates Lucas into the obscure world of floriography by showing him a bunch of different charts and infographics on Pinterest, and Lucas finds himself marching to said florist on Elliot's day off.

Ethan is annoyingly tall and has extremely white teeth. "Welcome to _Fleur-de-Louis!_ Can I help you find anything?"

"Yeah, actually," Lucas manages not to snarl. "Could you get me the biggest bouquet of roses you've got?"

Ethan practically coos. "Coming right up! Is this for a special someone?"

"It is. Do you do personalized messages, as well?"

"Of course!" Ethan pulls out a blank card and an expensive-looking fountain pen from behind the counter. "I've been told that I've got a good hand for calligraphy, if you'd like me to write it for you."

"That'd be great," Lucas says through his teeth.

Ethan has stupidly high cheekbones and dimples deep enough to be fucking sinkholes. "Ready when you are!"

"My love: These past three years have been the best years of my life. You mean the world to me, and I still can't believe how lucky I am to have met you. I know you're probably wondering why I got you this rather expensive bouquet out of nowhere, since, as you know, we have plenty of flowers at home--but I just wanted to let you know that every day is a special occasion when I'm with you. And every universe is brighter with you in it. I love you--through night and day, minute by minute." Lucas takes a deep breath in and slowly exhales. "I think that's it."

Ethan very subtly wipes at his eyes. "O.K., wow. Are you planning to propose?"

Lucas is about to say no, but it gets caught in his throat. He shakes his head and swallows down every weird, unnamable feeling burgeoning in his chest. No matter, because all Ethan had to know was, "Yeah, pretty soon, I think. I love him a lot. And I think he feels the same."

"Oh, that's wonderful," Ethan grins. "Who should I make it out to?"

"Ah, yes," Lucas leans in to ensure they're making sustained eye contact. "Please address it to Elliot Demaury." He totally does not smile sadistically as Ethan's face drains white. "Do you do in-person deliveries? He works at the video store just across the street."

"Uh, yes," Ethan coughs, dropping his eyes to the card in his hands. "Yes. We can, um--we do that."

"Excellent. If you could personally deliver it to him by this Friday, that would be great." Lucas doesn't even regret handing over his credit card. "Thank you so much."

When Lucas steps out of his (hopefully) last bac exam ever, he gets a string of heart and crying face emojis along with a photo of the largest bouquet of roses he's ever seen and a corner of Ethan's admittedly nice handwriting.

_LUCAS  
WHY ARE YOU MAKING ME CRY AT WORK_

Lucas smiles down at his phone. Imane rolls her eyes and accepts his fist bump when he shows her the photo.

_because you deserve it :)  
(the roses, not necessarily crying at work)_

_I love you so much  
more than I can put into words_

_enough to clean the litter box this week??? ;)  
  
enough to clean the litter box AND take you out to the fanciest resto in town tonight  
_ _congrats on finishing the bac, Lulu  
_ _I can't wait to see you_  
 _oh shit gtg my supervisor is glaring at me from across the room  
_ _I love you!!!_

 _I love you_ ❤

Elliot did clean the litter box and take him to dinner. And they had a _very_ nice night in bed as well, even though Lucas found bits of fur on himself the morning after in places even his worst nightmares couldn't have come up with.

And life just went on--him, Elliot, three rabbits (turned out Yann and Emma were accidentally starving Fifi no. 20 to death), a cat, a dog, a hamster, and a snake. (Lucas really, really _, really_ tried to dissuade Elliot from adopting a fucking snake, of all things--but it was Elliot's birthday, and, well. It was his own fault for telling him that he could get anything he wanted within a ten mile radius of their apartment, which just had to include a pet store, which just had to stock this one apparently irresistible, sharp-fanged, non-cuddly demon worm.)

Not that Lucas didn't do his fair share of complaining as their apartment started looking less like an apartment and more like a petting zoo and a shitty greenhouse. Especially when their friends suddenly got the idea that they could come over at any and all days of the week when they feel like having a good cry while drinking all of their beer and petting something fluffy, as if they had collectively decided that Lucas and Elliot were running an unofficial pet therapy clinic. It was how Yann and Emma got back together, and Arthur and Alexia and Noeé made up, and Lisa finally decided to quit her lifeguard job ("It's like, if you're stupid enough to go to a swimming pool when you don't know how to swim, don't you deserve to drown?" "…O.K. Lisa, maybe we should ease up on the vodka just a little bit--"). But their friends could take the piss out of him about turning into a PETA secret agent all they want, because nothing can really top Elliot holding up a collar or a chew toy every so often in a pet store and telling Lucas that they could try this in bed.

(Full disclosure: sometimes they did. With variable results.)

But he had to admit that it's nice sometimes. Because it helps to know that Elliot won't be alone when he's having a depressive episode. It helps a lot to see him sitting up in bed petting Adèle and smiling, however small. So he guesses he doesn't really mind having to block off hours in his schedule for trips to the vet, or withdrawing from his alcohol fund to buy pet food and treats and toys and all the expensive bullshit that apparently comes with pet ownership. He doesn't mind the absolute nightmare that was moving everything over to their new apartment, because they both got new jobs and Lucas couldn't walk two steps without tripping over a disgruntled animal or a flower pot. He doesn't even mind when he still ends up tripping over Zola the fucking guinea pig when he tries to pull out the gold ring that had been burning in his pocket all month long. He doesn't really mind at all. He doesn't mind for years and years and years.

Then one day, they're watching Ouba, Hercule, and Astérix (there was an animal hospice adoption event downtown, and Elliot just _had_ to go) play at the dog park. They're sitting on a bench with their hands intertwined, soaking up the last rays of the sun. And then a little girl with pigtails almost races headfirst into a hulking pit bull before getting swept up by a man who peppers her forehead with kisses. A woman blows raspberries into her stomach until her screams and giggles are ringing across the grass.

Elliot suddenly goes still. "Lucas," he breathes.

"Fuck," Lucas lets his head fall back against the bench.

It turns out to be one of the best worst decisions they've ever made.

**Author's Note:**

> So this totally came from nowhere, ahaha. What better way to procrastinate on every aspect of my life and weather out an apocalyptic pandemic than having an Elu-themed fever dream?!
> 
> Thank you so much for taking the time to read this--any and all feedback is much appreciated!
> 
> Stay safe and healthy, y'all, and hopefully see you on the other side!


End file.
